Category: AI Art
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0909: Everywhere Poems
Free tried once.fell off. slowly. slid like animation.like marmaladeoff hot toast. dented myselfa bit on August-dry clay. soot-black eyeand a sprained wrist. the horse and I,we walked back to the stables. I fed him windfall applesbruised with bee stings. talked about howi’d remember this dayfor the rest of my life. i love to watch horses…
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0909: A Six – SSC&B Alcove
The Alcove: Strikethrough two on the fence, one grey squirrel motionless, an the other — its tail a rudder steering through speed, crimped and flagging semaphores messages; a spiderweb at the window, delicate as Brugge lace, a breeze inflicting coaxing teasing a minute tremor through its lattices; autumn arrived two months early, as though woollen socks had some private grievance against summer the world had grown impatient with…
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0809: Dead Men Don’t Drown
Dead Men Don’t Drown: #5 (catch-up with all episodes here) “Hi Mum, it’s me — ay’okay, well, sort of, because I popped up the shops for milk, bread, and a few bits, and saw two pottery Staffordshire dogs like Gran’s in the antique shop, so I went in to see whether they were worth anything.”…
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0709: The Liturgy
05 Liturgy for the Unintended(for the moment the ear catches what the heart was not meant to hold) I. The Ear That Catches What Was Not MeantIt begins with a moment,an answer,a voice that carries wordswith informationIt arrivesbefore you can close your ears. You did not seek it.You did not want it,but now it is…
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The Old Woman With No Cat
The Cat and the Cloud(Or: A Feline Declaration of War on Weather) The cat lies sprawled in his sunbeam,belly up,eyes half-closed, when a cloud drifts lazily across the skyand steals his light. He blinks.Warmth gone.Shadow.Cold.The impertinence of it. He sits up,ears flat,tail bristling. “Old Woman,” he hisses,“that cloud is messingwith my sunny spot.My carefully curatedafternoon…
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0609: Journal of Thoughts
Stream of Consciousness (Motion) There’s a pigeon drinking from the rain gutter, dipping and lifting, dipping again, each swallow calling on the small machinery of its neck, while beneath it a bead of leaf-rusty water finds the gutter’s seamed joint and follows its old route downward; beyond the rain-poxed window a branch moves through still…
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0509: Everywhere Poems
I.his feet are on the coffee table,arms crossed,glasses inches down his nose. I never noticed thatBirkenstockshave squiggles on the soles. ah rain. and thunder. II.never rake leaveswhen the wind is blowing. the pigeonis standing in the birdbathdemanding water. III.saturday.rain. steadyand soft dripping from the gutter. ‘money on which plant revives first?’ I say.he shrugs, ‘fiver…
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0409: Stick of Butter
Stick of Butter when I was ten, maybe nine, but certainly no younger because we were living in the house where we lived the longest, and my bedroom window emptied its view straight into the yew tree and the park beyond, so I must’ve been ten … or nine … anyway, I spent the night…
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0309: dVerse Veils
This is a haibun poem for dVerse Poets. We were asked to recall a wedding, but that’s a personal memory I shall keep for myself. So here’s something that deviates a bit from the prompt. Veils Dust swirled behind the car and I remember thinking, I want a long white lace veil when I get…
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Ten Things of Thankful
A slightly different sort of Ten Things of Thankful this week. Lots of nearly lost memories. I. Years ago, I stopped cycling after swerving to avoid a shoulder-to-shoulder line of schoolgirls taking up the pavement. My forced trajectory ended at a fence. Holding a fractured rib, I remember thinking, ‘What god of ridiculousness thought a…
